Posted on 8 June 2016
Back in the 1990s, I was a huge fan of funk metal outfit Faith No More. I'm now in my 40s and, last week, the combination of my "midlife crisis" and theirs brought us back together at a venue in North London. Forever determined to prove that we can still cut it as rockers when required, a good friend and I headed straight down to the front and spent 90 minutes bouncing around in the "mosh pit" - that section of the audience where people delight in bouncing into each other in a manner that looks painful, barbaric, childish and very, very unfriendly to many who've never been in there.
Being a psychologist whose off-button broke a long, long time ago, I was struck by the recalibration of my value to the people around me. Like any collective, the mosh pit is governed by tacit rules and expectations. It's a visceral place but one that relies very heavily on trust and breeds a huge sense of camaraderie.
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